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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24626035">give me your fire, give me your rain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_diana/pseuds/dirty_diana'>dirty_diana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Musketeers (2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Athos is friends with dummies but he's used to it, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pre-Canon, small references to canon-typical racism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 11:08:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,858</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24626035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_diana/pseuds/dirty_diana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Porthos is an omega hidden among a company of betas. One day he discovers he's not the only one concealing his true nature.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aramis | René d'Herblay &amp; Athos | Comte de la Fère &amp; Porthos du Vallon, Aramis | René d'Herblay/Porthos du Vallon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Heat Fic Summer 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>give me your fire, give me your rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinlizzy2/gifts">thinlizzy2</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thanks to l for the beta. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mornings at the garrison were often chaotic. Musketeers filtered into the courtyard one after the other, elbowing each other for breakfast and hurling jokes and teasing insults through the cool morning air. Porthos often said nothing, preferring to simply let the sounds wash over him as he downed his breakfast and ale.</p><p>He'd only been at the garrison for a handful of weeks, when a stranger entered the garrison in the midst of the morning's disarray. He strode up to the table to shouts of greeting.</p><p>"Aramis!" one of the men called out.</p><p>"Aramis," said another, "we'd heard you were dead."</p><p>The stranger's mouth pulled into a grin at the joke, though from his eyes Porthos didn't think he'd found it funny. He strode up to the table, leaning over to steal an apple off the plate of the man next to Porthos. </p><p>The scent that wafted into his nose took him by surprise. Porthos rarely caught the scent of an alpha these days, and this smell was so rich, and plainly delicious, that Porthos found himself leaning towards it before he knew what he was doing.</p><p>He blinked, and caught himself. It was the new arrival. Aramis, who was looking at Porthos with new interest. There was an inquisitive look flickering in his features as he stared, and Porthos knew that he'd been scented in return. </p><p>There was an alpha at the garrison. Aramis had been here for many months, by the stories of bravery Porthos had been told. </p><p>The man, still examining Porthos, had the audacity to wink at him. Porthos looked around at the other musketeers still chewing on their food, and realised with a start that he must be the only one who knew. Betas were, as a rule, curiously nose-blind. He turned back to his cup before the expression on his face could give either of them away.</p><p>*</p><p>It was a little later that Aramis found him in the stockroom, carefully packing his musket pouch. He stepped over the threshold, and carefully closed the door behind him.</p><p>"You're new," he said.</p><p>Porthos made a noncommittal noise. He didn't see that they had much to discuss, but so far he'd been given no cause to be rude. "Porthos."</p><p>"I'm Aramis." The man doffed his hat with an unnecessary flourish. "I wasn't expecting to meet one of your kind here."</p><p>That could have meant multiple things. Porthos let it pass. "I could say the same about you."</p><p>Aramis nodded, acknowledging his words. "Does Tréville know?"</p><p>Blackmail? That was the game. Hot anger flushed through him. Porthos didn't even realise he had stepped forward, fists raised, until Aramis raised his own hands in a conciliatory, open-palmed gesture.</p><p>"I was simply wondering," Aramis said, and then, "he doesn't know about me, either."</p><p>Of course he didn't, Porthos realised. Lying about one's gender was a crime. An easy enough one to get away with if you had the right social status, but one that it was best not to get caught at.</p><p>"How do you manage?" Porthos asked, when he couldn't think of anything else to say.</p><p>The stranger--Aramis --shrugged at the question. His face didn't reveal much of his thoughts, but Porthos supposed that was to be expected in a man with such a thing to hide. "Much the same as you do, I imagine."</p><p>There was noise then, the sound of boots treading on floorboards as someone passed through the hallway. Aramis tipped his hat with too-knowing eyes, as Porthos nodded and left.</p><p>It would turn out to be as good a start to a friendship as any.</p><p>*</p><p>Omegas weren't meant to be joining the army, let alone the King's Musketeers. They were meant to be on their backs every heat, pushing out babies year after year. It wasn't a life he'd had any interest in, and he'd made off for something different as soon as he was tall enough. Porthos was built like many omegas he'd known in the court, with wide, strong hips, but in the rest of Paris and France, he'd found he didn't fit the common picture of an omega at all. This was fine with him. He passed easily enough, though every change of company was a fresh test of his disguise.</p><p>Perhaps he'd gotten too relaxed in his habits, he reflected the next morning, sipping down the paste of silverwood bark he'd dissolved into a weak cup of wine. It was chalky and bitter, as it always was, but Porthos drank the whole thing down to the dregs. It was expensive, but it was the only thing that would mute his scent and if he was lucky his heats as well. Perhaps he'd become relaxed here at the garrison, thinking he was merely surrounded by betas. But one could never be certain of that. Porthos resolved to be more careful.</p><p>*</p><p>Standing guard over the king and his hunting party was supposed to be a grand honour, but if anyone asked Porthos it felt far more like a punishment. The king had chosen an extremely hot day to assemble a hunting party, sweltering even in the shade. Which was good for the boar, Porthos supposed, as the men all quickly tired of chasing through the brush with their hounds. Louis took the disappointment in stride, laughing gaily. Around him the nobility reclined on chaises and called for more wine.</p><p>In the midst of the heat and boredom a wind picked up, blessedly cooling his sweat-damp skin for a moment. Porthos, standing in ramrod line with his fellow musketeers, struggled to hide his reaction to the wafting scent that had come with it. He wondered if he was mistaken, and glanced to his left, catching Aramis' eye.</p><p>No. Not mistaken. Aramis let his mouth stretch into a small grimace, before returning to having no expression at all. His eyes drifted towards the closest cluster of nobles, and the small blonde marquise who satwith a small group, fanning herself. She breathed out heavy sighs, constantly rearranging her skirts around her as if she found they were weighing her down.</p><p>Now that Porthos was paying attention, the lady was unmistakably the source of the scent. It was a heat, one that had been coming on for at least a day if Porthos could make out the scent at this distance. Her husband sat beside her, a sour-faced, wan beta.  Perhaps he smelled nothing. Neither did the rest of the hunting party, given that they made no sign. Or perhaps they'd all noticed, and simply thought it would be rude to comment. The nobility were a strange mix of inexplicable habits and plain stupidity, or so it seemed to Porthos every time he came in contact with them. </p><p>Porthos felt a pang of sympathy for the lady. Heat was a long list of discomforts that wouldn't be helped by sitting here in the hot sun, nor by the lack of attention paid to her by her husband. The marquise pulled her skirts into a new position again, and Porthos wondered how she'd hide the damp patch that was surely forming underneath her.</p><p>Next to him, Aramis made a nearly inaudible noise from somewhere deep in his chest, and Porthos realised for the first time where the real trouble was brewing.</p><p>He didn't think often of Aramis' scent, not since the first day they'd met. But it was deepening now, becoming rich and musky, and notably distinct. Another hour of breathing it in, and Porthos would be in a similar state. If this lasted long enough, surely not even betas could fail to make out what was happening.</p><p>Porthos' sympathy for the marquise evaporated. It was reckless to be out among people when you were in heat, not just for you, but also for any cloaked alphas and omegas who were around you. Any poor commoner in the city knew that.</p><p>Aramis coughed. It seemed almost apologetic. Porthos wanted to get away. He wanted to breathe Aramis deeper, to wrap himself in the scent and take it in, just as surely as he'd take his--</p><p>It was a struggle to make his mind cut off the line of thought, the surest sign that they were headed for trouble. Aramis was hardly staying in line now, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and back again as if the small dance could distract him. </p><p>Porthos glanced at the sun, still high in the sky. They had hours yet to go, and no sign of the omega withdrawing herself. He looked again at Aramis, who was turning faintly red above his collar. </p><p>Porthos did the only thing he could think of. </p><p>He pretended to faint.</p><p>Feigning a swoon proved to be harder than a real fall. Porthos just managed not to pull back from the sharp rocks that dug into his back through his uniform as he hit the ground.</p><p>He could hear several of the nobles calling out in surprise. Aramis was one of the men who broke out of position and knelt to tend to him--Porthos could tell that by the scent before he opened his eyes. Aramis was looking down at him with an expression that held echoes of disapproval.</p><p>The king had leapt to his feet at the disturbance. Tréville was offering him a stream of soothing words.</p><p>"I'm sure I requested only the strongest men," the king said, looking over at Porthos in dissatisfaction.</p><p>Porthos fluttered his eyelashes a little, as if he was just coming back to consciousness, and tried to ignore the king and the captain discussing him as if he were a horse at market. </p><p>Above him, one strong hand sliding under his back to support him, Aramis said, "He's simply injured, your majesty. It happened in the course of his duties, a few days ago."</p><p>"Well, then of course he should be allowed to rest." The king waved his hand, in a gesture Porthos supposed he thought was magnanimous, and turned away.</p><p>"I'll go with him," Aramis said quickly. "Make sure he doesn't swoon again."</p><p>"Very well," Tréville said, though he was scrutinising both of them with careful eyes. "See to it, Aramis."</p><p>*</p><p>"Maybe I should tie you to the horse, just in case," Aramis said loudly, making an exaggeratedly thoughtful face as if he was really considering it. Just out of Porthos' sight, a couple of servants giggled.</p><p>Porthos straightened slightly. He wasn't sure whether Aramis was teasing him for the trouble he'd caused or making a serious threat. "That won't be necessary," Porthos answered, just as loudly.</p><p>Aramis helped him onto his horse anyway, his hand firm at Porthos' back, digging into the muscles there. It was  an extremely alpha gesture, Porthos thought, or perhaps his thoughts were still swimming from the miasma of alpha and omega scent he'd just been drowning in. Aramis still smelled a little like the first signs of rut, and it took all Porthos' concentration to avoid leaning towards him.</p><p>Aramis eyed Porthos warily, as if he really was worried he might fall. He swung onto his own horse, gently clucking the Spanish words that the beast seemed to understand, and they began loping away from the woods.</p><p>*</p><p>Porthos let a room from an old omega widow, half-deaf and greatly opinionated On the hours Porthos kept, on his lack of an alpha husband. The place was going to smell like an alpha, Porthos realised with a small hint of panic. Aramis guided him from his horse and up the stairs, as if the king might still be watching.</p><p>He closed the door behind them and crossed his arms over his chest. He was quiet, and Porthos raised his eyebrows in a silent question.</p><p>"I wasn't going to lose control, you know. If that's what you thought," Aramis said finally. He shifted in place. He looked hurt, Porthos realised too late.</p><p>"That wasn't what I thought."</p><p>Aramis looked wary, unconvinced, so Porthos continued, tersely explaining as best he could.</p><p>"I didn't think that. But she was setting you off, wasn't she? Even if you could control it. You'd have been setting me off, in a minute." Porthos wasn't much given to embarrassment, but it was strange to admit how much he feared reacting to his friend. "Would have been like a spark to gunpowder, everyone going off one after the other."</p><p>That finally made Aramis relax. His face broke into a broad smile. "Half the hunting party, probably."</p><p>Porthos tilted his head, considering the idea. "You think so?"</p><p>"Oh, most certainly. The nobility are the worst for passing."</p><p>"The nobility are idiots," Porthos said, still irritated, and Aramis shrugged.</p><p>"That is certain."</p><p>*</p><p>Athos came to the garrison a few weeks after that. He reeked noticeably of strong wine more often than not, but Tréville seemed to see something in him, and so Porthos said nothing. At nights in the taverns, he was nearly unreachable, with a shadow behind his eyes that Porthos didn't dare ask about.</p><p>"Porthos?" he said when they met, arching his eyebrows. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."</p><p>Perhaps he thought he covered up his origins well enough, but one only had to listen to the beta talk for five minutes to know there was a family title of some sort behind his practised manner. </p><p>The man turned away from the introduction, and Aramis waggled his eyebrows meaningfully. Porthos hid a smile. They'd know soon enough what to make of him.</p><p>*</p><p>"What do you suppose is in it? Love letter?"</p><p>It was a pleasant day on the roads west of Paris. A mild breeze ruffled the leaves in the trees, and the blue sky had no signs of rain. With a little luck, Porthos thought, the weather would hold all the way to their destination and back again.</p><p>Aramis' mouth crooked in a smile. "In that case, I'd imagine the king would have chosen less memorable messengers than ourselves, no? Romance is much more thrilling when it is discreet, I think."</p><p>"Not a love letter, then." Porthos' horse ambled along as he considered the sealed letter currently resting inside his saddlebag. "Summons to the court."</p><p>Aramis shrugged.</p><p>"I imagine that what's in the letter is less important than that the king's men be seen delivering it." Athos cleared his throat before he spoke.</p><p>Porthos wrinkled his nose in distaste at the likely observation. "Politics," he said, with a feigned shudder.</p><p>Athos fell back into watchful silence, but made no objection to the aimless banter Aramis and Porthos shouted back and forth over the sound of the horses' hooves. Their destination could be made out on the horizon long before they arrived, a manor perched at the crest of a winding hill road overlooking the town below.</p><p>The duchess summoned him to the doors of her study, to wait while she composed a reply. When Porthos returned to the hall, he found both Aramis and Athos had been invited into the comfort of the sitting room. There, Aramis was flirting with one of the duchess' older daughters. She was an omega, by the colorful ribbons that bound her hair and dress. Porthos frowned, and glanced furtively at Athos to see what he'd made of the situation. Athos was standing in a corner, making mild conversation with the butler as if he paid no mind to Aramis at all. </p><p>"Perhaps I'll see you again, when we come to Paris for the summer," the daughter said. Her voice was eager, yet she looked up at Aramis through lowered lashes as if she were bashful.</p><p>"You very well might," Aramis answered, winking. </p><p>The girl flushed pink. Porthos rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Ready to go?" he asked, a little too loudly, holding up the letter he carried in his gloved hand Aramis glanced up. He smiled at Porthos. It was a different sort of smile than he'd given the girl, warm and honest.  </p><p>"Ready," Aramis announced, clapping Porthos on the back. "Mademoiselle. A pleasure" He tipped his cap, igniting another deep blush, and then the three men took their leave.</p><p>*</p><p>Outside, the three men retrieved their horses, preparing to begin the ride back to Paris.</p><p>"They're more trouble than they're worth," Athos said, speaking unexpectedly as he swung into his saddle.</p><p>Aramis looked up, frowning. "Horses?" he asked.</p><p>"Omegas. I've noticed you're drawn to them. That's no sort of accusation," he added quickly as Aramis opened his mouth, though to say what Porthos didn't know. "Many men are. But their alluring qualities are balanced by the unstable temperament."</p><p>Aramis very carefully did not look at Porthos. "Temperament," he repeated dully, as he mounted his own horse.</p><p>"Indeed."</p><p>"Know that from first-hand experience, do you?" Porthos asked, in a tone he knew wasn't quite as casual as he was aiming for.</p><p>It might still have passed as a jibe between friends, intended to ease towards a change of subject, but if anything the man's expression only turned more serious. "I have some experience, yes."</p><p>"Perhaps you'll tell us that story on the way back to Paris," Aramis said. His feigned cheer was far more convincing than Porthos' had been.</p><p>"Perhaps," Athos said, as polite as ever.</p><p>They were attacked for the duchess' reply an hour outside the town. Porthos leapt from his horse, throwing his body into the brawl with Aramis and Athos beside him. Relieved, perhaps, by the distraction from Athos' earlier words.</p><p>*</p><p>It soon became clear that Athos was a skilled swordsman, excellent to have around in a fight. He was also, Porthos could soon tell, far too observant. Aramis didn't seem to share Porthos's worries. His manner continued much the same as it had before.</p><p>The boy who delivered the message to the garrison waited patiently for Porthos to flip him a sous before he dashed off, sprinting into the streets and vanishing into the crowd. Porthos opened it, squinting for several moments at Aramis' nearly illegible handwriting.</p><p>"Trouble?" Athos asked him.</p><p>Porthos looked up, making an effort to smooth the lines of his face. He hadn't realised he had been scowling. "Nothing."</p><p>Athos nodded, though he looked unconvinced. "If you require assistance," he said, his words trailing off and leaving the offer unfinished. </p><p>"I'll be back in an hour or two," was all that Porthos said.</p><p>When he found Aramis in a room of the inn, the man looked far too calm for someone who had just been robbed. Let alone someone who wasn't wearing any breeches. </p><p>"If you're going to linger in the beds of unfamiliar omegas, it seems unwise to get separated from your weapons belt, let alone your money or your dignity," Porthos said gruffly as he handed Aramis a fresh pair of breeches.</p><p>He knew omega inns, of course. Both omegas and alphas could find themselves in need of a safe place to meet, as well as a place to do their business if it came to that. Porthos himself visited them as rarely as he could manage. The smell of omegas and alphas, of sex, was overwhelming here.</p><p>The mistress of the inn looked them both over, then shook her head and withdrew in disinterest. She left the door open. </p><p>Aramis smiled, as if he considered the afternoon an amusing adventure. "I know you know that removing my breeches is essential for the enterprise," he said. Into Porthos' stony returning silence, Aramis' light expression abruptly transmuted to a surprised frown. "Porthos. I've shocked you."</p><p>"You're careless, Aramis. What if Athos had received that message instead of me?"</p><p>"Athos is far too much of a gentleman to read a message addressed to someone else, and you know it."</p><p>"Still," Porthos pressed, unable to match his friend's unworried tone. They were not alone in the inn. Two alphas laughed together with an omega on the stairs. The sound was raucous and bawdy, and it only increased Porthos' agitation. He quieted his voice, trying not to be overheard. "You take too many chances."</p><p>"That is not my intention." Aramis shrugged, as if Porthos hadn't just been fetched from halfway across town to rescue him from an indecent state. "I'm sorry to upset you. I do only as I must."</p><p>"As you must?" Porthos repeated in strained disbelief.</p><p>"You don't know what it's like," Aramis said. A small note of irritation, of defensiveness, had entered his voice. "I'd hardly be fit company, Porthos. Least of all for you." The last was said gently, as if he hated to remind Porthos of his status.</p><p>"Rutting in every bed in Paris is a favour for me, is it?"</p><p>Aramis drew back a half-step, staring at Porthos with eyes that had suddenly become sad. "I would never name you if I were asked, Porthos, surely you know--"</p><p>"You think this is just about protecting my own skin?" Porthos straightened himself up in ire.</p><p>Aramis raised both his eyebrows, glare too sharp. Porthos glanced away. "Isn't it?"</p><p>"And what if it is? There'd be no second chances, Aramis. Not for me--"</p><p>The proprietor of the inn appeared again in the doorway of the room, shooting both of them a fiercely chastising look. "Messieurs. You distress my customers."</p><p>"We were just leaving," Aramis said, his expression changing to one of placid politeness as he turned to address her. He bent to shove his stockinged feet into his boots. "Weren't we, Porthos?"</p><p>Porthos mumbled agreement, as the inn owner shooed them out of her front door and into the Paris daylight.</p><p>*</p><p>For days Porthos stewed over his friend's words. Aramis hardly spoke to him in return, skirting his presence at the garrison as much as he could without being openly rude. This state of affairs lasted almost a week, until the following Monday, when they found themselves in a skirmish with the Red Guard near the city gates. Over another letter, of all things, Porthos thought in annoyance as he threw himself into the fray.</p><p>He'd been in many fights with Aramis, and usually each man knew the other's habits as well as he knew his own. On this day, where he would normally have been aware of Aramis' movement and swept in to defend him if needed, Porthos was too slow. The tallest of the Red Guard managed a clean strike, his sword going deep into Aramis' upper arm. Aramis yelled in pain. The sound went right through Porthos as if he himself had been stabbed.</p><p>Athos' face darkened with anger, his sword snapping forward into the path of a Red Guard. The fight was over quickly after that.</p><p>*</p><p>"That's more than enough," Athos scolded both of them later, in the garrison's infirmary. Aramis sat on a chair, stripped of his shirt with his injured arm freshly bandaged. "I have been patient while the both of you glowered and sulked like children."</p><p>"We never--" Aramis began to protest.</p><p>Athos gave him no space to interrupt. "And now Aramis is injured, because the two of you were too distracted to prevent it. This will not happen again. Put yourselves in order."</p><p>He looked once more at each of them, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.</p><p>Aramis rubbed his chin ruefully, staring at the door that still trembled from Athos' forceful closing. "Well. I suspect that whoever nursed Athos was quite eloquent."</p><p>"You think our Athos got a lot of scoldings?"</p><p>Aramis didn't answer. Porthos didn't especially want to talk about Athos. He didn't know where to start with the rest of it. He sat down beside Aramis, and the wooden chair squeaked beneath him.</p><p>Aramis glanced over at him, and his mouth folded into a frown. "Don't let Athos worry you, Porthos. It's barely a scratch."</p><p>Porthos raised a hand, fingers gently grazing the white bandage, then coming to rest just above on Aramis' bare skin. "Are you sure?"</p><p>"I'm sure," Aramis said softly, and the two of them lapsed into a silence where neither man seemed to know what to say.</p><p>"I'm sorry." Now that the days had passed, Porthos' anger was a shadow of what it had been in the omega inn. It seemed impossible to hold on to it, with his injured friend sitting beside him. Porthos cleared his throat before he spoke again. "You're right. I don't know what it's like."</p><p>Aramis reached up, his hand covering Porthos' hand where it rested on Aramis' shoulder. "You have your own concerns. You shouldn't have to spend so much time looking after me."</p><p>"Well, I've hardly anything more important to do, have I? Besides, all for one and all that." </p><p>Aramis smiled at that, and something in Porthos' chest unclenched. Aramis looked at him a moment longer, and then pulled him into a hug. Porthos laughed a small, relieved laugh, wrapping his arms around him in return.</p><p>*</p><p>With his scent dulled, and his clothing and blue coat typically that of a beta, Porthos usually found it easy enough to hide in plain sight. From the betas he was surrounded by, and from the alphas and omegas he never let get close enough to catch his faint scent.</p><p>Still, there would be times he would be caught by surprise, and wind up scented by a stranger before he knew it. An alpha that caught his scent could become aggressive, or worse, cajoling. Somehow Aramis always appeared at his side then as if he'd been called. He stood close enough to the other alpha to let himself be scented, a thing that always made Porthos' blood rush with worry. Then, too, he stood close enough to Porthos to imply a claim without saying a single word. </p><p>"I could have handled it," Porthos said through gritted teeth one night, when an alpha had taken one look at Aramis' menacing smile and the possesive way he stood next to Porthos, and quickly retreated.</p><p>Aramis looked him over carefully before answering, keeping his arm around Porthos' shoulder.  "Of course you could. But if you fight every alpha between here and Provence, eventually someone might notice the pattern and seek an explanation." </p><p>He was right, and Porthos scowled at it, turning back to his drink.</p><p>"Besides, dear Porthos, it is my pleasure to be useful to you."</p><p>Porthos could hardly maintain his bad mood in response to that. His mouth folded into a smile.</p><p>*</p><p>The next time, of course, Aramis' mere presence wasn't enough.</p><p>"How much do you want for him?" the alpha demanded of Aramis, gesturing to Porthos.</p><p>Aramis squared, his shoulders, his eyes narrowing. "I beg your pardon."</p><p>"I said, how much--"</p><p>Aramis punched him.</p><p>When Athos came to investigate the chaos, he was as he always was this late into the night, deep into his wine. Barely showing it, except for a slight swaying of his limbs as he looked down. Aramis sat on the back of the subdued alpha, pressing his nose into the floorboards.</p><p>"Do you need any help?" Athos drawled, eyeing the sight. Something like a smile tugged the corners of his mouth.</p><p>"I believe," Aramis said, panting only slightly with spent effort, "our friend was just leaving." He eased his weight just enough for the man to nod his head.</p><p>*</p><p>The palace was the one place where Aramis' skill in dissuading the rare alpha that caught Porthos' scent was quite useless. The nineteen-year-old first son of the Comte de Laval was an alpha, one who was doing only a passing job of having the fact not be obvious to the whole court. He was lanky and fair-eyed, and handsome to look at, Porthos could admit. He seemed intrigued by all the musketeers, and Porthos especially, but the young noble could be neither intimidated or fought with to dissuade the attention. Porthos nodded his way through several polite conversations before Aramis finally spoke up, grumbling. He scowled after the young man as he finally departed.</p><p>"Oh, Monsieur du Vallon, how do you find the weather today? Oh, Monsieur du Vallon, is it terribly exciting being a Musketeer? Tell me of all your adventures."</p><p>Aramais let his voice turn high and breathless in mimicry. Porthos barked a laugh. "Ah, he's not so bad."</p><p>Aramis eyed him in surprise. "Porthos, please don't tell me you're enjoying this."</p><p>"I dunno. Might be nice, to be shown interest by a count's son. There'd be gifts, don't you think? I might be able to sell them, and spend the livres on a new sword." Porthos shrugged.</p><p>Aramis made a weak, strangled noise. "Porthos."</p><p>Porthos continued his cheerful musings. It was a nice day, as the count's son had declared, the sun rising to gently warm the palace garden. "Even if the gifts weren't that impressive, I suppose other things might be. To make up for it, like." He winked at Aramis.</p><p>Aramis' answering smile was slow in coming. "I thought your overwhelming desire was to <i>not</i> cause a scandal."</p><p>"Pierre wouldn't tell anyone. He's not like that." </p><p>"Oh, Pierre, is it?" </p><p>"What? Are you the only one allowed to have any fun?" Porthos asked with a wry glance.</p><p>He'd been joking, but Aramis shook his head quickly. "It's not that, of course, and natural that he should take notice of your charms. I simply meant--"</p><p>Porthos interrupted. "My charms, hmm? Tell me more."</p><p>Unexpectedly, Aramis looked away. "You are insufferable," he said, with his gaze directed into a far line of trees.</p><p>"That'd be one of my charms, I suppose." Porthos grinned.</p><p>Nothing came of it. The young alpha went home at the end of the season, and didn't return to court. For all that Porthos had teased Aramis, and enjoyed the attention, he knew it was just as well.</p><p>*</p><p>Porthos' luck came to an end one night in the late spring, with the three men headed north through Champagne. They'd stopped for the night at an inn in a small town. Porthos rubbed his temples as they turned in for the night, hoping that the headache he could feel brewing on the inside of his skull was simply the result of days spent on the road.</p><p>In the morning Athos went in search of breakfast, with Aramis heading to look after the horses. Porthos stumbled out of bed, blinking foggily as he tried to get himself dressed. The headache hadn't eased. If anything it had gotten worse during the night, and been joined by a racing of his heart that wouldn't seem to pause. Porthos groaned, weakly doubling over as he got tangled in the laces of his breeches.</p><p>Athos was the first to return, and he found Porthos in the same position, cursing his clothing as he tried to stand.</p><p>"You're injured," he noted with a frown, dropping a loaf of bread on the table as he darted forward. Athos put a steadying hand on Porthos' back to guide him to sit on the bed. Porthos didn't quite make it, stumbling to a sitting position on the floor with gasping, heaving inhalations. Athos' hands didn't leave him, roving searchingly over Porthos' torso, prodding every inch.</p><p>"You should have said something," Athos was chiding him. "Were you hurt in that fight yesterday? Are you bleeding?"</p><p>The door hinges creaked as it opened, and that was how Aramis found them, with Porthos scowling at Athos' fingers buried in the folds of Porthos' shirt. </p><p>"Aramis, thank God. This idiot has gone and been injured, and I can't get him to tell me where--"</p><p>Athos' hands were gently efficient. His familiar beta smell should have been comforting, but Porthos was suddenly starkly aware that it wasn't enough, that what was wrong with him couldn't be helped.</p><p>"Get your hands off me," he growled, pushing Athos' grip away. </p><p>Athos frowned but complied, straightening up and taking a step back. "A fever, perhaps," he said to Aramis. The worry in his voice had deepened. "He's not making much sense."</p><p>Aramis stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Understanding passed over his face in a flash. "Porthos? May I?"</p><p>Porthos nodded faintly. Aramis edged forward, as if approaching an easily startled horse, then  dropped to the ground beside Porthos. He slid an arm around Porthos, and Porthos leaned into it. He couldn't help himself.</p><p>Aramis smelled like an alpha, felt like it, steady and strong. Porthos breathed in, focusing on the feel of Aramis' hand on the back of his neck, a hand strong enough to hold him. Strong enough to dampen the hot restlessness that Porthos could feel flickering within him. Aramis whispered to him in Spanish, words Porthos didn't understand but knew he wasn't meant to. The tone itself was soothing.</p><p>Minutes passed, perhaps. Porthos' head spun too hard to keep count. When he finally looked up again, still lost in the sensation of Aramis' grounding touch, Athos was staring at both of them.</p><p>His eyebrows raised to his hairline, and then he said something exceedingly ungodly. </p><p>"I'm sorry we couldn't tell you, Athos." Aramis smiled, a thin regretful expression. </p><p>"The two of you are going to get me hanged for being a deviant," Athos retorted. His expression had gone still and inscrutable. "The two of you dressing like betas, working with the King's Musketeers and engaging in God knows what acts of perversion, right under my nose."</p><p>"It's nothing like that," Aramis snapped, still holding Porthos tightly to him.</p><p>Athos sighed, a sound that held exasperated fondness around the edges. "I know that, of course. I'm telling you what people will say."</p><p>Aramis shook his head, as if sweeping aside Athos' comments for their most pressing concern. "If you've finished clucking, do something useful and get Porthos' bag. It'll have his medicine in it."</p><p>"No," Porthos said. "That's what got me into this mess. It must have been bad, what I've got."</p><p>Aramis swore, sounding very much as if he'd like to find the Parisian merchant who'd taken Porthos' money in exchange for the worthless bark paste and teach him a lesson. Porthos made a noise in the back of his throat as his body grew tense at the sound of the alpha's anger. Aramis took an audible breath, calming himself. His hands stroked Porthos' shoulders until the omega relaxed again.</p><p>Athos' tone had turned brusque, now that he'd been presented with a clear problem to solve. "There must be an apothecary in town. I'll go inquire if he has any to sell."</p><p>Aramis shifted as if preparing to stand, his whole body rippling with the movement. "I'll go. Getting anyone to sell a strange visitor silverwood bark paste is going to require some charm, no offense meant, Athos."</p><p>"None taken," Athos said with a shrug, "but it seems as if you might be more useful here." He stared pointedly at Aramis, and the way that Porthos was clinging to him. Porthos made a deliberate attempt to relax his body, but it was difficult.</p><p>Aramis took a deep breath before he spoke again. "Athos," he said finally, in careful, clear tones. "I cannot stay with him for much longer."</p><p>He was right, Porthos knew, and the thought left him lonely. He shifted his mind to what Athos had suggested instead. "Don't bother," he said. "With the apothecary. It's too late."</p><p>The room was silent as both men swallowed the meaning of his words. Neither bothered to ask him if he was sure.</p><p>Athos spoke first. "Is there someone I can fetch, Porthos? I can saddle my horse now. It'll take some time to return, but perhaps you won't have to go through the worst of it alone."</p><p>Porthos shook his head. Athos would never be back in time, and in any case there was no one. He preferred it that way--he had the Musketeers and it was all that he needed. Aramis' fingers were rubbing firm circles in his back.<br/>Aramis said, "You'll still need a supply. We can stay here until you're recovered, but you cannot go back to Paris smelling--"</p><p>"Like myself?" Porthos asked bitterly. "No, I suppose I can't."</p><p>Eventually it was agreed that Athos would visit the apothecary, and Aramis would remain with Porthos for a few more moments. Porthos was grateful, and frustrated to realise it. He leaned into Aramis' chest, inhaling the scent that had so reassured him. Aramis' heartbeat was steady against his ear. </p><p>"Porthos. You smell so good, do you know that?" Aramis murmured the words into Porthos' neck, so softly that perhaps he hadn't meant for Porthos to hear.</p><p>Porthos shook his head. He didn't want this, Aramis talking to him as if he were one of the helpless, swooning omegas he flirted with. As if it meant anything. "Please don't," was all he could manage to say.</p><p>"You're right. I'm sorry." Aramis' apology sounded genuine. He stroked the base of Porthos' neck with his thumb.</p><p>"If you need to leave," Porthos forced himself to say. Perhaps he hadn't been fair, and Aramis could hardly help what he had been saying.</p><p>"I can manage until Athos gets back. I won't leave you alone."</p><p>*</p><p>Porthos passed the rest of the day in a feverish haze. Athos returned from his mission with a small supply of Porthos' medicine. He carefully mixed a small amount into a flask of wine, then guided it into Porthos' hand and watched him drink. Aramis retreated from the room with a haste that Porthos couldn't fault him for. Athos remained. He helped Porthos get halfway dressed, then saw him into bed, ignoring the way that he'd begun to form a damp patch at the back of his clothing. His hole relaxed and tightened around nothing. Porthos sucked in a small moan.</p><p>Athos cleared his throat. "Would you like some privacy?"</p><p>It took him a few seconds to understand what Athos was asking. "No. That is, I'd rather a distraction. Perhaps you've got a book hidden somewhere?"</p><p>"I'm afraid it's in Latin," Athos said apologetically.</p><p>"It'll do."</p><p>Porthos relaxed into the straw mattress, letting the sound of Athos' even, clear reading voice wash over him. He listened carefully when Athos stopped every few pages to summarise the main arguments in French, though in his current state he knew he barely understood. Athos never spoke to him as if he was stupid, Porthos thought drowsily. He liked that.</p><p>It worked well enough on the first day. On the second Porthos' fever was worsening, resisting his attempts to drown it in cool wine. Sweat dampened his chest, and his hole dripped juices uselessly onto the sheets beneath him. Athos tended to him, his expression growing more worried.</p><p>The beta's smell, barely identifiable under the way Porthos' heat-scent filled the room, was an irritant. Too close, and not quite right. More than once Porthos snapped, then found himself apologising. Porthos felt as if he were on fire, his skin burning where it touched the sheets. He tossed about, curling and uncurling, finding no position that brought him relief.</p><p>Athos had given up reading. He brought Porthos wine to wet his dry throat, watching him in silent worry. After dusk Athos lit a candle, then spoke. He moved closer to the bed, clearing his throat. "Porthos, I am your friend, and I feel I must make a suggestion. You're not going to like it."</p><p>"That'll be nothing new, then," Porthos said.</p><p>Athos smiled a little. Worry still haunted his eyes. "It seems to me that your troubles could be solved by the presence of an alpha, and well, we have an alpha here. One who worries about you endlessly."</p><p>He had been trying not to think of Aramis. Porthos shook his head. </p><p>"He scowls at me," Athos continued. "Every time I leave this room smelling of your heat. He might challenge me to a duel at any moment."</p><p>"Aramis wouldn't fight you," Porthos said, smiling at the ridiculous thought.</p><p>"He wouldn't deny you anything, either."</p><p>"Why doesn't he tell me that himself, then?"</p><p>Athos's brows narrowed, expression puzzled, as if he couldn't believe Porthos' idiocy. "I believe he's waiting for you to ask, Porthos."</p><p>Porthos was silent, thinking this over. He prided himself on being practical, yet he'd carefully never considered what he might do if his heat fell upon him, or who he might want by his side.</p><p>He thought of the way Aramis' scent had enveloped him, had made him feel warm and safe.</p><p>"If he wants to come in, he can."</p><p>*</p><p>Athos left, and Aramis entered afterwards, with barely a breath of time passing. Aramis stood in the room, looking as if he didn't know what to say. Porthos spoke first.</p><p>"Athos has said you're too shy to offer your assistance. I told him that doesn't sound anything like you."</p><p>Aramis smiled a faint, crooked smile. "Perhaps I find myself out of my depth."</p><p>"That doesn't sound like you either." Porthos made a comical face, but Aramis ignored it.</p><p>"I speak of emotional difficulties. Which I know you greatly wish to avoid. I want you only to know that I hold you in the highest esteem, and…"</p><p>Porthos grunted, trying to sit up and making it only halfway. "Mother Mary's tits. Is there going to be poetry?"</p><p>Aramis shrugged lightly at that. "I haven't prepared any."</p><p>"Good. There'll be no need." He raised a hand to beckon Aramis closer.</p><p>Aramis hesitated, seeming strangely rooted to the spot. Porthos stared back at him, studying him closely. Aramis's skin was flushed pink, obvious even in the dim light, and his ungloved hands were uncharacteristically unsteady. </p><p>Porthos frowned. Aramis had only been in the room for a few minutes. But perhaps he'd been primed for two days, just as Athos had said. He didn't know what to think about that, so he focused on deciding his next words.</p><p>"I'm sure," Porthos said quietly, and that finally propelled Aramis forward.</p><p>Aramis dropped to a sitting position on the bed, close enough for Porthos to smell him and find his whole body relaxing as he did so. Aramis studied him intently, his eyes warm in the flickering candlelight.</p><p>"When was your last heat? Proper heat, Porthos."</p><p>"It's been years," Porthos admitted. He wasn't sure of the exact number. Aramis' right hand dropped onto Porthos' bare leg, running upwards and stopping over the thick muscle of his thigh. "I'm not a blushing virgin, though. You don't have to act as if I'm made of glass."</p><p>"I'll treat you as you deserve to be treated, and make a very poor alpha if I did anything else," Aramis said, voice firm.</p><p>The steady, gentle attention continued. Porthos squirmed, shifting under his touch, and Aramis' hand gripped his thigh with firmer fingers. "Stay still. Please," he added, when he saw Porthos open his mouth to complain.</p><p>Porthos remained in place, with only a small noise of grumbling. Aramis' hand traveled high enough to brush Porthos' balls and hard cock and retreat again, traveling down the other thigh. He was still clothed, and Porthos wanted to pull every stitch off his body and rub himself against the warm flesh. Aramis bent to press his mouth to the juncture of Porthos' hip, lightly running his lips along the fevered skin. Porthos shivered as Aramis' teeth grazed his skin, gently at first, then harder. The brief, sharp jolt made Porthos gasp.</p><p>Aramis glanced up at him, his gaze hot and unrepentant. Porthos relaxed again, reclining onto his elbows as he watched Aramis work. The sight of it, of Aramis' steady focus, sent desire uncurling at his centre.  </p><p>Aramis' mouth traveled further along the front of both thighs, pressing his teeth gently into  Porthos' skin and then soothing each mark with his tongue. When he seemed satisfied he made to pull Porthos' shirt off, and Porthos moved his shoulders and arms to help him. Aramis continued touching him and kissing him up his midsection, then to his chest, where his tongue circled Porthos' nipples until Porthos was choking on needy gasps and clamping his lips together to contain the sound. Then he moved upwards again until Aramis' teeth grazed Porthos throat between kisses. Then Aramis fell still. He was scenting him, breathing him in. Each breath was coming more quickly than the last, as the fingers that had drifted back down to Porthos' thighs dug into his skin. He dropped another kiss on Porthos' throat, then moved back.</p><p>"Do you think you can help me undress?" Aramis asked.</p><p>Porthos nodded, though he wasn't sure. He worked himself into a sitting position, then threw himself into untangling the laces of Aramis' shirt. His fingers were unsteady. Aramis continued to nuzzle at Porthos' neck, making Porthos laugh and slowing his progress. Finally the item came off, tossed to the floor. Aramis undid the laces of his breeches. The outline of Aramis' cock, huge and swollen inside his braies, got Porthos' attention. He made a noise that drew a small, fond laugh from Aramis.</p><p>"See something you'd like?" There was a filthy emphasis on his words, but Porthos was barely listening. He bent his head to mouth over the linen, and sigh at the taste. Aramis groaned. His hand curled around the back of Porthos' neck. Porthos undid these final laces, rubbing his fingers over the shape of Aramis' cock as he did so. Then Aramis shimmied out of his breeches and braies together. Porthos brushed his open mouth against the head of Aramis' cock. His tongue darted out to lick, and Aramis moaned again. His thumb rubbed over a spot at the nape of Porthos skull, then shifted to grip his shoulder and shift him upwards. Porthos grunted in annoyance, but when Aramis scrambled onto the bed with him, pushing him backwards and rocking against him, the complaint was forgotten. Porthos was achingly hard, soaking the sheets with his wetness.</p><p>Aramis guided Porthos' thighs apart, and knelt between them. Porthos frowned a little at the unexpected sight. He'd never been taken by an alpha face to face. Aramis wrapped Porthos' legs around himself, holding him in place with surprising ease. When he rubbed his cock against Porthos' wet hole, there was no more time for thinking.</p><p>Porthos keened as Aramis' cock pushed inside him, fast and a little bit rough. Porthos was so ready that it didn't matter.  Aramis fucked him in hard, quick strokes, making Porthos' own hard cock bounce between them. Aramis' hair had become a mess, falling into his face, but what Porthos could make out of his soft eyes were fixed on Porthos' face. Every minute of the discomfort Porthos had been in was forgotten, drowned out by the feeling of Aramis' cock strecthing him and fucking deep into him, pounding against a spot that made Porthos' already burning skin feel as if his whole body had filled with lightning. He was on fire, desire a low, heavy weight at his centre that had begun to consume him. Aramis thrust into him, making his own uncontrolled sounds of desire as he pounded Porthos' hole without stopping. It was so much, too much. Porthos yelled out as the fire finally swallowed him whole. He came, shaking under Aramis' body,  releasing a mess of come on his own belly in thick stripes. Aramis' strokes still came quickly, but the rhythm had begun to stutter. </p><p>Out of the dreamy fog that followed his orgasm, a wave of panic washed over him and tightened Porthos' chest. </p><p>"Aramis," he gasped out. "Don't…"</p><p>Aramis only grunted to acknowledge the order. He pumped his cock inside Porthos twice more, and then pulled his cock out of Porthos' hole with a wet sound. He was gasping, trembling, holding tightly to Porthos when he reached his climax. It seemed to last forever, white come shooting onto Porthos' thighs as Aramis' knot swelled.</p><p>Aramis collapsed on top of him, still shaking like a leaf in the wind. Porthos reached down between them. His fingers wrapped around the base of Aramis' cock, rubbing at the pulsing knot. Aramis made a tiny, mewling sound, and Porthos frowned at him.</p><p>"It doesn't hurt, does it?"</p><p>Alphas told stories of the harm it did them when they were denied the chance to knot inside you. Aramis shook his head, forcing out his words between hard breaths.</p><p>"Quite the opposite," he managed, before fumbling one hand between their tangled legs to Porthos' backside and shoving three fingers inside him. He made small thrusting motions, then finally just left them there, stretching Porthos as his knot would have. Porthos' hole tightened hungrily around the fingers as he gasped.</p><p>The position was awkward, yet neither would have thought of moving. He drifted in a half-dream, listening to Aramis' breathing. When he returned to himself, Aramis was rising from the bed, and that was the movement which had disturbed him. He retrieved a cloth from the corner of the room, and dabbed it over both of them before falling back beside Porthos.</p><p>He stretched an arm around Porthos, pushing his warm body against Porthos with a comfortable sigh. </p><p>"You were good," he whispered, "so good."</p><p>Porthos said nothing, and Aramis had soon lapsed from French to Spanish. Porthos rested against Aramis and let the meaningless sounds wash over him, until one caught his attention.</p><p>"What's that mean?" Porthos asked, interrupting. "You say it to your horse a lot. I hope you're not calling me a horse."</p><p>"Ah." Aramis hesitated, long enough for Porthos to realise that he was embarrassed. "It means handsome one."</p><p>Porthos closed his eyes against Aramis' shoulder, grimacing in dismay. "I'm sure I've asked you to leave off the poetry."</p><p>"I'll try," Aramis said. It sounded unconvincing. Porthos opened his eyes again, peering at him.</p><p>"It's my own fault, I suppose, for being bedded by a known…"</p><p>Aramis arched his eyebrows. "Known what?"</p><p>"Seducer. Dropper of petals."</p><p>"You make me sound appalling," Aramis murmured.</p><p>Porthos chuckled. "You're terrible," he said, and it came out sounding unbearably like he meant something else entirely. </p><p>Aramis was watching him carefully. Their faces had drifted closer together as they talked, and now Porthos could feel Aramis' warm breath on his cheek. Aramis shifted his weight, and his left hand came up to draw the fingers over Porthos' lips before he kissed him.</p><p>Porthos moaned into it, kissing him back, relishing the heat of the alpha's mouth and the way he tasted against him. They broke off for rough, deep breaths, then kissed again, hips rocking against each other.</p><p>Against Porthos' bare groin, Aramis was hard again. Porthos' fingers found his stiffened cock as they kissed and rubbed his palm over it, making Aramis groan against his mouth.</p><p>"Like that, is it?" Porthos teased.</p><p>"I can wait," Aramis answered. He was breathing hard. </p><p>Porthos drew back, studying his friend in surprise. Aramis met his eyes, as he always did, and yet there was something there that Porthos couldn't read.</p><p>As an omega he'd always hated heats, and being reduced to the needs of his body. Yet, in here it was fine, to know that Aramis would hear him and take care of him and never use the knowledge of Porthos' hunger against him. It had never occurred to Porthos that Aramis might worry over the same thing.</p><p>"I've got you," he whispered to Aramis. Their mouths met again, and Porthos stroked Aramis over and over, making Aramis buck against him. </p><p>"Come on, then," Porthos said, when Aramis was moaning, grinding against his hand. "Put it in me."  </p><p>Aramis didn't need further instruction. He nudged Porthos onto his back, and pushed inside him with an urgency that made Porthos groan out his name. Aramis fucked him as he had before, fast and hard. It felt as if it took no time at all before Porthos was falling apart,  and Aramis was following him.</p><p>*</p><p>Two days later, they finally saddled their horses and started back to Paris.</p><p>"Gentlemen," Athos said, his eyes roving over both men from beneath his hat as they left the inn, "I'm glad to see you both well. And frankly hope never to go through that again."</p><p>Porthos simply grinned as he climbed into his saddle. He'd begun drinking the silverwood tea two mornings ago. Not only was his scent fading in the wake of his heat and under the application of the tea, but Aramis' scent seemed more distant to him as well. That hadn't stopped Aramis from fucking him in the early morning, despite Porthos' half-hearted complaints that they were already too late getting back to Paris.</p><p>Paris would have to be different, they both knew that. They would have to be careful. Aramis had wrapped his fingers around Porthos' own hands as he guided their bodies together, and gasped Porthos' name into the dawn light.</p><p>Now Aramis lifted his hat in Athos' direction and said, "We'll certainly do our best to avoid it."</p><p>Athos stared at him a moment, a serious look that still held warmth in his eyes, then clicked his tongue to guide his horse forward. "See that you do."</p><p>Porthos smiled widely again. Aramis smiled at him in return, and in that expression the ghost of Aramis' hands on his skin lingered.</p><p>Under a grey sky just beginning to release a fine mist of rain, the three friends made their way back home.</p><p>*fin.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading! you can say hi on <a href="https://dirty-diana.dreamwidth.org/read">dreamwidth</a>, <a href="https://sweeter-than.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/sweeter_diana">twitter</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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